The Answer to Our Lives
by The Wandering Swordsman
Summary: AU. Inspired by a picture. WARNING: references of war, concentration camps, somewhat torture, darkfic, angst. Zoro was in a state of despair when someone unexpected appeared. Fluff SanjixZoro.


**Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece. **

**Warning: I am going to repeat this again: references of war, concentration camps, somewhat torture, darkfic, angst.**

0500.

That was how citizens in the Impel Down Camp referred to the time. Everyone in worn out, threadbare uniforms marched uniform down the narrow hallway of their dormitories-naming it that was exaggerating since it was made out of packed dirt and rotten wood. Families and friends were separated with force and were kept in those filthy rooms. A gigantic gray wall, thicker than any wall existed, stood erect between the two camps so that neither could meet.

There were hundreds of different faces, but all wore the same expressions: fear and despair. Some had lost all hope and wore nothing but apathy on their ebbing youth. These poor souls were labeled as Toganin, humans who were a threat to the country. Most were ones who, carelessly or bravery, announced that they were against the Tenryubito, the name of the government of this country, and were taken here. One-third of them were the unlucky ones who were unlawfully criticized as a Toganin and were sent there without reason. Some had relatives who were accused as a Toganin and were sent here so that their stained roots would not spread.

Zoro Roronoa was a later example. His uncle was accused of being a member of a notorious association that officials were still hunting down. There wasn't proof but they clasped their hands over their ears and heard nothing of it. Zoro did overhear that someone in his neighborhood had a grudge on him and had slandered.

The man was still twenty-one years old, a wonderful age filled with hopes and dreams, if he lived in a different place and time. He saw nothing in the road he was forced to walk. There was no future for him, especially since he was degraded as a Toganin.

He had tried to count the days he had been living in this hell but he had lost count. He knew, however, that the war was still raging on for nine years. Nine years of battling for something the Tenryubito had kept it confidential. For Zoro, and probably many others was silently whispering in their hearts, thought the war was completely meaningless, but if they ever say that out loud, they would either sent here or were shot right there and then by the government soldiers.

While the Toganins were confined in this concentration quarters, they all were required to do a job. A job that started from 0530 to 2200, with a few break hours in between. All members, gender and age made no difference, marched down a mile long dirt road. The sky, defiled by the weapons used in the war, had turned in a vibrant and deadly red color. A massive building with transparent walls on all four sides stood desolate in the end of their destination. Because of the sky, the building looked like it was bleeding. The perimeter of the building was surrounded with towering but decrepit iron fences. Many of these buildings were built in a row. Just staring at the building caused the surface of Zoro's skin drench in cold sweat.

Once they entered the glass doors, all of them were assigned a meter of space. They were also received a bag with a belt which they strapped it around their hips. With it they placed the objects they needed to pick in the bags.

What the Toganin had to do for the time in Impel Down was to pick flowers.

The phrase sounded innocuous but it was the flowers the Toganin had to pick that were lethal.

The flower's name was called Sanguis Rubigo. The name was solely based on the color of the petals which were mixed with red and burnt amber. This flower only grew in the autumn so the Tenryubito created greenhouses to keep the temperature that was ideal for the Sanguis Rubigo to thrive. The Toganin had to pick the flowers' petal for the petals were used as a main ingredient for all of the war's weaponry. This was torture for the true Toganins because they were forced to support the war by helping out picking these flowers. The flower was covered in diminutive spikes that cause mild irritation to the skin. However, the pollen the flower released was the most dangerous. Once the pollen entered the body system it attacked the blood stream, covering every blood cell in thin coats of a metallic substance. Eventually the body would start turning into a dark rusty hue and become impossible to move. When the lung was completely filled with the pollen, the person suffocated and died a painful and slow death.

Zoro was assigned to the second row and in the middle of the vast greenhouse. He stared at his bare hands that were beginning to have the rusty tint. He had tried to decrease the chance of getting affected by holding his breaths and taking time outside of the stifling pollen filled building, but after months of being trapped in here it added up. Up to his forearms it was in a nasty dark shade of red. His nails and the joints were black as soot. The veins were bulging out of his skin but instead of blue veins they were wine red. His fingers tingled and it felt heavy as he tried to shape it so that it could pinch the petals off, avoiding the stamen as much as possible.

Already the atmosphere in the greenhouse was smothered in the pollen since the people were recklessly plucking the petals off and touching the stamen at the same time. If they didn't pick enough petals by the recommended time, they were mercilessly whipped and their breaks were taken.

The air was thick, reeking with metal. Zoro covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve to filter it out so he could breathe. A person next to him was coughing and gagging and the green haired man knew that this man might not survive the next morning. Zoro's eyes fell once again at his arms and wrists and seeing how much his was progressing, he realized he might not last either.

1200 was the Toganins first break of the day. Everyone rushed out of the smothering humid greenhouse and to the cool crisp hours of the morning. A gentle breeze shivered one's bones since they had been out covered in sweat. Zoro quickly got out, pulling a young child just barely at an age of ten to a least concentrated area of people and pollen. The child didn't know him and Zoro didn't know him either, but upon seeing the child struggling to pass the mob of people Zoro couldn't just look away. It seemed that the child had recently taken here for his uniform _looked_ new. The child's skin was still a natural color, but a month or so later, that was going to change. The child lowered his head down and when he saw Zoro's hands, he blanched and slapped it away. Zoro didn't say anything but just watched the child brush off the place where Zoro had touched. Soon after the awkward meeting, the child wobbled over to the crowd, searching, perhaps, for his relatives.

Zoro cast a glance at the outward iron gates. On the other side were multiple soldiers in dark blue suits with masks on their faces to avoid the pollen. There was only one soldier per every three meters, so it seemed like an easy escape. Zoro had seen a few had tried and all had failed miserably for they never came back alive. The teen stared dolefully at the holes in the rusty iron fences, where the last prisoner tried to climb but got himself caught, ending up being shot against the fence.

Ten minutes and back into the horrid greenhouse. There another painstakingly long work waited for them. Once a person was acclimated to the routine, he or she worked like they were robots. If they thought of nothing, the day passed miraculously. Zoro was one of them and deftly picked the flowers as if he had been doing this for his whole life. But looking at his hands carefully and ignoring the red discoloring, one would see a few calloused areas in his palm. The hardened skin shaped to hold a Kendo sword. Before he was taken here, he used to work at an academy where he could teach his swordsmanship to students.

Those were the peaceful, happy times. The war still raged on then, but Zoro wasn't involved. Sadly, that was history. Zoro wished that the theory about history repeating itself returned to the era he had loved.

The time of 1900 finally struck. Some called it supper and others called it dinner, but no matter what that was all they had for the rest of the day. Zoro, and the rest who have been used to these conditions, were not hungry and just received the plate of gray porridge and slurped it silently. It tasted like rust for some reason. All of his five senses were altered to smell, taste, see, feel, and even _hear_ the rusty pollen from the Sanguis Rubigo. The teen finished his fill quickly and quietly escaped to the outdoors.

He peered outside and was welcomed with the dark crimson sky. The stars and the moon were hidden from the thick clouds of factories where they made weapons with the Sanguis Rubigo flower petals. He covered his arms over his mouth and stared absentmindedly ahead and saw a lonely soldier standing on the other side of the ruined fence. It was a man wearing the same dark blue suit and a mask but the man looked familiar. Then the soldier gesticulated, asking him to come closer to the fences. Zoro looked both ways and cautiously stepped toward the soldier. Upon walking closer to the man, Zoro felt an intimate presence he had forsaken once he had entered this concentration camp.

When he was inches to the fence, he looked carefully, inspecting the man through the mask. Yes, he did know him.

Zoro opened his mouth but since he hadn't talked in a while, it took a while for him to regain his voice.

"S-Sanji?"

The man stood rigid but soon the man reached for the mask and unbuckled it. The soldier was about to pull it off, but Zoro stopped him.

"N-No, you'll going to get infected-" the other man raised a hand to stop him. He pulled it off anyways and when he saw the man's face, tears gushed out of Zoro's eyes. The deep ocean blue eye glittered back just like how the night sky used to look like decades ago. The other eye was covered up by his wonderfully golden blond hair, untainted by the rusty air. The sapphire like eye was moist from tears also.

"Zoro..." The blond soldier peered down at his arms that were blistered, red, and black, "Y-You're hands-"

Zoro curled his hands against the fence, "They don't hurt. D-Don't worry about it." He peered into those beautiful eye he had loved so many times, "S-Sanji, why are you here?" He stared doubtfully at the navy blue uniform. Although the man looked wonderful in it, the blond had a different job. The last time Zoro was taken here Sanji was a chef of a famous restaurant called 'Baratie'. When he and Zoro started hanging out, Sanji had already quit and had taken a new step in life: creating his own restaurant. It took half a year, but when Zoro saw the finished building, it was just how Sanji had imagined. It was built along the coast of All Blue, the most beautiful ocean in the world. Zoro had visited there hundreds of times and just like the rest of the customers, everyone loved it.

Sanji stared down at the ground and did not look up, "I had to close down the restaurant."

Zoro was stunned. He leaned closer to the fence, trying to examine his face, "Why?"

Sanji waved his gloved hand over his uniform, "I got the amber letter, so I had no other choice but to close the store down."

"You'll reopen it again...won't you?" The look on Sanji's face told him otherwise. Because of the war, most of the citizens have left town to suburban areas so they could protect themselves from the bombs. Probably Sanji had lost a lot of money from the lack of customers.

Sanji sighed, "I had trouble deciding whether to shut it down or hand it to someone else, but I couldn't handle letting even a friend take control over it," he looked up and smiled, "But I'll open it one day when everything settles down and I get out of this place...with you." Sanji knew, of course, the latter was an impossible dream. With Zoro branded as a Toganin and in this cell, he wouldn't be released until the war is over. When would this war come to an end? Would it be in time before the Sanguis Rubigo consumed Zoro and killed him? Zoro's head dipped down because he knew, and feared the dreading conclusion. It was whispering through his veins. Zoro was not going to make it by next spring.

The prisoner knew, but he was going to keep that secret to himself. He was going to act in front of Sanji that he was fine and the tingling pain crawling in his arms were just an illusion. He didn't want Sanji to worry, but would this increase the chance of him having a severely broken heart? But there was no other choice. Sanji was a soldier working under the Tenryubito and he was a criminal, shunned by society.

"When's your shift?"

"I only have it during your supper time. I have to transport to other camps and keep on a look out."

Zoro smiled and nodded. Just thirty minutes, and if he scratched the time to eat, they only had twenty minutes of spending time together. Even if Zoro was going to die, he was going to spend those precious times, just like the way they had spent them when they were walking on the same ground. Zoro's face was now inches to Sanji's. The blond's breath tickled his nose.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too."

Zoro slid his arm through the wide opening of the iron fence and grasped Sanji's hand. The blond squeezed hard and felt the bulging veins. They both exchanged smiles before they heard a siren. Zoro raised his head and frowned.

"That's the bell."

"Already?" Sanji sounded disappointed.

"I got to go." Zoro pulled, but Sanji did not let go. Zoro didn't want to either. He wanted to stay with him as long as he could. He dropped his voice, his tone reluctant. "Sanji I got to-"

"Kiss me Zoro." Sanji whispered.

Zoro silently obeyed. He leaned his face to press his lips gently over Sanji's. While his were chapped from dryness, Sanji's were soft. It was only a brief moment before Zoro pulled away, face and hand, and gravely welcomed them back into the realm of darkness. He stepped back, watching Sanji the whole time as he did so. Sanji pulled up a handsome smile and slipped away, as if Zoro had just seen a mirage. The warmth of Sanji's lips and the rich loving scent of the blond lingered, reminding him that Sanji did exist and was near. Although Death had sentenced him an early death, a flicker of light burned in Zoro's heart.

Even if this war was going to last maybe another year, three years, maybe another decade, Zoro was going to be resilient. He was going to survive this dystopia and get of it alive.

For himself and, especially, for Sanji.

**The End**


End file.
